


Crossed Wires

by AdAbolendam



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (Can You Tell That This Isn't Super-Cheerful?), Angst, Character Study, Drama, Exposition, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Identity Issues, Love, Misunderstandings, PTSD, Post-Season Six, Trust Issues, twists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 19:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdAbolendam/pseuds/AdAbolendam
Summary: “May flinched, Jemma," Coulson shouted. "She was afraid. Of me. And it’s not because of who I’m not, it’s because of who I am. So, I’m going to ask you one more time, what haven’t you told me? What did he do to her?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Overall, this is not a happy story. There is room for happiness later on, but our characters aren't there yet.

Coulson pulled on the sleeve of his suit and rolled his shoulders back, trying to adjust the material that hugged his frame. He had become accustomed to breathable fabrics and loose-fitting jackets in the past few years. It was hard to believe that there was a time when he would have never walked out the door without his shirt starched and his trousers neatly pressed. Probably, Simmons had selected his old business-formal attire to present the team with an image of him that they would recognize, to help ease them into the idea of having him back.  


It felt silly.  


He wasn’t the Director anymore, after all. There was no need for the pretense.  


He fiddled with the knot of his tie and considered taking it off. May once told him he looked better without one. At the time, it was all the permission he needed to ditch the habit for good. It was too much of a liability, anyway, walking into the field with a make-shift noose around his neck.  


When he reached the private bunk on _Zephyr One_, he raised a hand to knock on the door and hesitated, rocking on his feet. He was positively giddy.  


Melinda May was on the other side of the that door. She was recovering from a mortal injury and here he was, grinning like a school boy with a crush. He had to compose himself.  


Of course, he had been horrified to hear what had happened to her. Simmons told him that she survived a fatal stabbing just long enough to take out some unspeakable evil that was hell-bent on bringing on some sort of apocalypse before she had succumbed to her injuries. It was terrible. He had no idea what he would have done if he had been there. But Simmons assured him that Daisy had been with her at the end. She had died a hero.  


And now she was back.  


If Simmons’ debriefing was even half of the story, May’s brush with death had been the tip of a sizeable iceberg.  


For him, it was all too surreal. So much had happened in the time that the back-up of his memories stopped and the present.  


The last thing he knew for sure, he had been shot and was falling through the escape portal in the Framework.  


And May had followed him.  


After weeks of worrying that she was lost for good at the hands of Radcliffe, he found her and she was alive!  


He took a deep breath and raised his hand again, making sure that all traces of nervous elation were hidden beneath a veneer of calm concern. The steel door rattled beneath his knuckles and he quietly counted the seconds until the door swung open.  


One glimpse of her was all that it took for his control to slip. The corners of his lips twitched upward and his tongue seemed to adhese itself to the roof of his mouth.  


What was wrong with him?  


He stumbled to find the right words but all that came out was a whispered, “May?”  


All he received in reply was a hollow, glassy stare in return that did not meet his eyes. His brow furrowed in genuine concern. She had to have been on pain killers after the procedure. 

She probably should not have been out of bed.  


“How are you?” He managed to ask.  


“Fine,” she answered tonelessly.  


“Jemma told me… she said you’d been through a lot.”  


May’s eyes flicked up at his sharply before falling back to his chin.  


“Should you even be up?” He prodded.  


“Probably not.”  


She turned away and padded back to the bed that was bolted to a wall. Coulson’s excitement evaporated incrementally with every step that she took away from him. She eased herself onto the bed with a muffled groan and sat hunched over. Elbows rested on her knees, taking the weight of her injured abdomen. Her hair hung in a veil that obscured her face.  


He was not sure exactly what he expected to happen when he saw her again, but this wasn’t it.  


Of course, an incident like the one she had experienced was nothing to be dismissed. But this was not May’s first round-trip to the Great Beyond. The last time, he couldn’t even convince her to take a day off. Now, she looked defeated.  


She had not been this despondent since…  


No.  


This was not like that. He would not let it be like that. She had gone through too much to slip back into that hole again.  


“Jemma’s been catching me up on what I’ve missed,” he said. “Space, aliens, _time-travel_? I remember when the weirdest thing we had to deal with was a narcissistic billionaire and his iron suit.”  


No reaction. Not even a twitch.  


Coulson frowned and crouched in front of her.  


“I’m sorry, May,” he said, softly. “About this Izel-thing. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. You know I would have been there if I could.”  


He waited in the interminable silence that followed until she finally lifted her head to look at him.  


“I’m glad Daisy was there for you,” he continued. “I’m glad you had each other.”  


Her answering nod was almost imperceptible and his spirits sank as her gaze slipped back to the floor.  


“Tell me what I can do,” he said. “If you need to talk about it, you know I’m here. I mean, I do have some experience in this area.”  


That got her attention.  


May’s head snapped up so quickly, he almost fell over in surprise.  


“What is it?” He asked.  


Her eyes raked over his features, searching him every inch of his face. He felt like he was being studied.  


“May?”  


"Do you know?” She asked at last.  


His shoulders slumped in relief. She was just looking out for him. Of course, she’d want to make sure he had not been lied to. He should have known.  


“Yeah,” he admitted. “I know. Simmons told me. I didn’t come back under false pretenses.”  


His words did nothing to assuage her. She sat as rigid as a pole with her eyes boring him to him.  


“What did she tell you, exactly?”  


Her jaw was so tight, he wondered how she was able to form words.  


“That I made a choice,” he said carefully. “A deal with the Ghost Rider to take down AIDA. It—it took away the cure of the Guest House serum. My clock kind of, sped up, I guess.”  


May’s eyes closed and Coulson found himself rambling.  


“She told me about the monoliths and the Lighthouse in the future and how we came back and Talbot turning himself into some super-villain. Which was… a lot to take in. After that, she said my time ran out.”  


He paused and waited for her to reply. When her eyes blinked open, they were wet with tears.  


Oh, no.  


What had happened? What was he missing?  


What had he done?  


“I know there had to be more to it, but she said she told me everything I needed to know for the mission,” he tried. “Is there something else?”  


Her stare became fixed and distant. Whatever she was seeing now, it wasn’t him.  


“No,” she replied. “That’s what happened.”  


Of all of the lies he had watched her spin in her long career as a spy, he had never seen through any of them as clearly as this.  


“May, please. Talk to me.”  


He reached out to her. His hand had barely grazed the top of hers before she was jerking back and glaring at him with an intensity just a few degrees south of homicidal.  


“Don’t,” she growled.  


He would have preferred it if she had punched him in the face. It would have hurt less. He knew. He had been on the receiving in of her blows multiple times in the ring. But she had never looked at him like that. Everything about her radiated hurt, anger, even hatred.  


“What did I do to you?” He whispered.  


“_You_ didn’t do anything,” she said pointedly. “Until a few days ago, you didn’t exist. You’re a machine. Simmons made you. Any resemblance you have to Coulson is hardware and programming. You know that.”  


“That’s not…”  


The protest died before it had even begun.  


_“I am the real May! Her thoughts, her memories, her desires… that’s all real.”_  


Whatever he said, it would not make a difference. She would not believe him.  


He had been where she was now. He had not believed it either.  


He had not known what it was like to understand that his body was crafted of gears and wires, and still feel bones and nerves beneath his skin. He thought it was all a trick the LMD had played on him. In some ways, it was at trick. But now, he realized who the real victim was.  


He had despised the thing that stole May’s identity and masqueraded around, pretending to comfort and protect him. Perhaps it was fate’s twisted way of mocking him that he would find himself in a position where he was forced to empathize with her.  


“I know,” he said, finally.  


He had not come here to convince her that he was something he wasn’t. If he had not been so consumed by the idea of seeing her safe and alive again, he would have realized that there was no other way she could have interpreted his actions.  


“I’m not him,” he continued, choking on the words that felt like a lie. “But I do have his memories, up until a few years ago, at least. So, whatever he did to you, I know that the man who went into the Framework would never forgive himself for becoming someone you hate.”  


May opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it, and settled back into stony silence. Coulson was not surprised. He did not expect a reply.  


He got to his feet and turned away.  


“Maybe he didn’t die soon enough,” he muttered.  


“That’s not true,” she whispered to his back.  


“It’s okay,” he said, turning to her once more. “I get it. You don’t have to worry about seeing me again. I’ll stay out of your way.”  


As soon as the door shut behind him, he slumped over, feeling his chest constrict. He tore at the buttons that held the oxford cloth of his shirt closed and pressed his hand against his sternum, trying to alleviate some of the pain. He pushed so hard against his ribs, he thought they would crack, but the ache did not abate.  


Why would it? It wasn’t his heart that was hurting, just a phantom pain.  


There was no movement beneath his palm. His chest did not rise and fall as he gasped for breath. 

All he could feel was a gentle humming where a heart used to beat.


	2. Chapter 2

"What did he do to her?” 

Simmons switched off the projection on the holotable and looked up with wide eyes as Coulson stumbled into the command center. 

“Sir? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m fine,” he said. “But May isn’t. You omitted a few things in your briefing. What happened to her? What did he do?” 

To his accusation of withholding intel, she offered no explanation or defense. Her face betrayed nothing more than mild concern. He was starting to find her detachment unnerving. 

“What did who do?” She asked calmly. 

“Coulson,” he spat. “What did he do to May?” 

“You’re speaking of yourself in the third-person,” Simmons muttered, half to herself. “Are you feeling alright? We might need to run a diagnostic— 

“I know who I am!” He shouted. “Or who I am supposed to be. And that person would never have caused that reaction!” 

He pointed in the direction of May’s room, his fist shaking. The loathing he had seen in her eyes made him feel sick. 

“Oh,” Simmons breathed. “Sir, it’s… you might just need to give her some time. I know it’s difficult, but you can’t expect her to accept who are right away. Everyone is going to need a chance to adjust to these new circumstances.” 

“She flinched, Jemma,” he said. “She was afraid. Of me. And it’s not because of who I’m not, it’s because of who I am. So, I’m going to ask you one more time, what haven’t you told me? What happened to her?” 

For the first time since he returned, Simmons looked ill-at-ease. She crossed her arms and lowered her gaze to stare at the blinding light of the blank projector between them. 

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” she said. “Between the time you came out of the Framework and when we picked up May and the others in the temple, it would have been almost two years. A lot can happen in that amount of time. A lot did.” 

He was all too aware of how much could change in so short a period of time. But it wasn’t good enough. She should have known better than to bring him back without letting him know how it would affect his team. She did know better. 

“You said my memories stopped with the Framework, but yours didn’t,” he said. “If everything you told me about the Chronicoms is true, you could have uploaded your memories to my cache, right? I could have known everything. Instead, you told me. Why? What are you hiding?” 

Simmons met his inquiries with a cold stare. 

“I told you everything that you needed to know for the mission parameters. It’s called compartmentalization. I wouldn’t think I would need to remind you how that works.” 

How dare she?! What had happened to everyone in his absence? What had they become? 

“And frankly, sir,” she continued. “You have no right to see those memories. They are mine. There is quite a lot in my head that is very personal.” 

“Fine,” he snapped. “I don’t need to know everything. Just tell me what happened to May.” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” 

Damnit, Jemma!” 

He slapped his hand on the table so hard that it shook. 

“She couldn’t even look at me! She acted like I was going to attack her. Tell me why now, or we’re done!” 

It might have been his imagination, but she seemed to grow paler at his pronouncement. He was not imagining the sheen of moisture in her eyes. 

Dread of whatever it was she was holding back and the need to fix his other self’s mistakes warred for dominance in his head. 

“You died,” Simmons said simply. 

Coulson frowned, his impatience mounting. 

“What else?” He asked. 

“That’s not enough?” She shot back. 

No, it wasn’t. 

He had died before. May had been fine. 

His death had saved countless lives, maybe even stopped the world from breaking apart. She would understand that. She would have done the same. Any one of them would. That was their job. 

“There’s more,” Simmons said. “More that happened after. But you can’t really believe that losing you didn’t have an effect on her, on all of us. What she did to try to save you…” 

“What? What did she do?” 

An exasperated sigh answered him. 

“You name it,” she replied. “She saved you from getting yourself killed so many times I lost track. She tracked down old Hydra contractors to reconstruct the Guest House serum and destroyed what we thought was our only hope of stopping Talbot to make sure that the cure went to you.” 

Simmons scoffed to herself. 

“And even then, you refused to take it,” she muttered. 

“I must have had a reason,” Coulson insisted. 

“Giving Daisy the serum and not taking it yourself was what gave her the power to stop Talbot,” she said. 

“Exactly. May would have understood that.” 

Simmons’ withering look was so patronizing, he felt like a child being scolded by his mom for saying something careless when he should have known better. 

“Wow,” she said flatly. “Of all of the innovations Fitz and I have made over the years, you might just be the most perfect. You really are him. You still have no idea what you mean to her. To any of us.” 

Coulson opened his mouth to retort, but could not find the words. 

He thought he knew. 

Maybe this is what happened when the closest thing he had to a family was a group of trained spies. Keeping personal truths hidden from outsiders was how they stayed alive in the field. After a while, it became second nature. And no one was better at it than May. 

“You’re right,” Simmons said. “I withheld information from you. Some of it wasn’t relevant. Some of it I thought it would just hurt and I didn’t think you needed to know. But it’s obvious now that was a mistake.” 

“I’m all ears.” 

“May would have let the world quake apart if it meant saving you,” she deadpanned. “And I would have let her.” 

“Jemma— 

“There’s more,” she said. “The woman that May killed, Izel, she had an accomplice.” 

“Okay,” he encouraged. 

“And it wasn’t Izel who stabbed May,” she admitted. “It was him.” 

If he had to stand here all day dragging the truth out of her bit-by-bit, he was going to lose it. He wasn’t seeing the connection. Whatever he had become after the Framework, there was no version of himself that would ever run May through with a sword. 

“Who was it, Jemma?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, with a half-shrug. “We found out bits and pieces. Some of it seemed to make sense, but I don’t know that we’ll ever know what he really was. But he looked like you.” 

Perhaps it was a testament to the volume of weirdness that had been dumped in his lap in the past week that the revelation did not knock him on his ass. As disconcerting as it was to know that he had had an evil twin out there somewhere, it was not the most unusual thing he had encountered in his career. By SHIELD’s standards, it was almost cliché. 

And May would not have been taken in by his doppelganger, even if she had not known for a fact that he was dead. Her singular focus on whatever task was in front of her made her observational skills second to none. 

It did not make sense. 

“She knew it wasn’t me,” he said, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t have fallen for that.” 

Simmons flexed her hands in carefully controlled frustration, curling them into fists, then spreading her fingers wide. 

“Maybe the person you remember wouldn’t have fallen for it,” she said quietly. “But things changed. I don’t think she really believed it was you, so much as she _wanted_ to believe. She believed because she thought she had a chance to get you back. The person she loved more than anything else.” 

His ears were on fire. So was his face. 

Buzzing filled his head and for once, he was glad he did not need to breathe. He could not have taken a breath if he tried. 

“That—that’s not… she doesn’t… it’s not like that,” he stammered. 

“Of course it is.” 

Her voice seemed to come from far away. The ambient hum inside of him almost drowned her out. 

“You know her better than anyone, even now. You know that she loved you.” 

“How would I know that?” He croaked. “Last time I saw May, she was Hydra. She barely had the patience to talk to me, let alone… before that, it was that goddamned LMD. Who knows how much of that was really her?” 

How much of any of it was really her? He did not know the woman in Simmons’ stories, who would have sacrificed the greater good for him. 

“I don’t know who she is anymore,” he murmured. “I don’t know who any of us are anymore.” 

Simmons’ face filled his vision, crouching beside him. At some point, his knees must have given out. He was ruining his new suit sitting on the dusty floor. 

“Yes, you do,” she said, firmly. “You know her. She hasn’t changed. Think about it, sir. Everything I’ve told you is what May has always done. She’s always protected you. That’s why she was assigned to our team in the first place.” 

_“I didn’t do it for him, I did it for you!”_

“She stood by your side when half of your team thought you were going crazy because of the GH serum.” 

_“No matter what happens, I’ll take care of you. That’s my plan.”_

“She risked everything by using the Darkhold to get you and Fitz back.” 

_“You’re not allowed to be gone. Not yet.”_

“After all of that, how can you believe that you don’t matter to her?” 

Coulson stared through her as the hard truth of her words sunk in. 

All of this time, he thought that May was the master of compartmentalization, but in truth, he had her beat by a long shot. 

When she chose Andrew over him all of those years back, he had buried his feelings where they would not be hurt again, while she had the courage to show it, even knowing that she could get hurt. After all that she had been through, she was strong enough to be vulnerable with him. 

And it had cost her everything. 

Now, she was being forced to relive a nightmare by seeing his face, while he was powerless to help her, knowing that getting close to her would cause her more pain. 

All he wanted was to make her happy. Instead, his choices had destroyed her. Maybe he deserved this. But May didn’t. 

Simmons had condemned them both to hell. 

The disbelief that had overwhelmed him transformed, bypassing grief entirely, and morphing into rage. 

“How could you?” He asked, through clenched teeth. “How could you bring me back, knowing everything that has happened?” 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to. Not at first. But I didn’t know what other choice we had. We do need you on this mission, sir. The toolbox is in the hands of our enemies. And no else has access to the information that you know.” 

He thought he had taught her better than that, but it seemed as though Jemma Simmons had learned everything he had to offer when it came to prioritizing their work, and had completely missed the parts about empathy and compassion. 

“I expected better from you,” he told her. “You know, there were a few times when I thought you were too detached and driven, but I always trusted you to know where the line was. You never gave me a reason to doubt that trust until now.” 

“Sir— 

“You brought me back, put me into a _machine_, and just me being here is hurting the person that I… How could you do it, Jemma?” 

Her eyes narrowed and hardened behind the film of tears. 

“You know why I trusted you?” She asked rhetorically. “Because I knew that you would never ask anything of your team that would not willingly do yourself.” 

Coulson scoffed. 

“I appreciate that you think you could do this if the mission required it, but you would never do this to yourself, not if you knew how it feels.” 

“I know _exactly_ how it feels,” she shot back. 

His lips parted, but nothing came out. 

She continued to stare him down, unperturbed by his probing eyes. 

He saw it now. 

All of the little things he should have noticed. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he kicked himself for not having seen it earlier. How her skin was flawless and perfectly uniform in color. How the laugh-lines that had begun to form at the corner of her eyes had disappeared. How her voice was eerily calm and modulated. 

She wasn’t any more real than he was. 

A horrible thought occurred to him. 

“Jemma?” He whispered. “Is she gone, too?” 

The smile on the LMD’s face was so sad, he believed it was genuine. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I hope not. But I can’t know for sure. I won’t know until this is all over.” 

“Why?” 

He wanted to stay angry with her, but she was making it difficult. It was hard be mad when she looked so miserable. 

Simmons wiped away a stray tear and sniffed. 

“After working on the time-travel device for a few months, Fitz and I realized that it could take years, decades to complete,” she explained. “We could very well die before we finished it, if we stayed in our own bodies, that is.” 

“So you made LMDs of yourselves,” he realized. “So you could keep working.” 

She nodded. 

“What happened to the real you and Fitz?” 

As much as he hoped to hear that they had retired and lived out their lives in well-deserved solitude, he was very aware that their track record of bad luck precluded the likelihood of that possibility. 

“Cryostasis,” she said. “Somewhere out there, we’re the same age we were the last time the team was all together, except for you, sir. Waiting to be woken up and told that the mission was a success. At least, I hope we are.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“I can’t,” she said. “For the same reason I can’t know where the LMD of Fitz is now. If the Chronicoms get their hands on one of us, LMD or real— 

“They can get inside your heads,” Coulson concluded. “Use your knowledge to take out SHIELD.” 

“And they can’t find the rest of us if we don’t know where the others are,” Simmons said. “Enoch took the capsule with our bodies in it and gave it to one of his few remaining allies. We don’t know where he took us from there. We don’t even know if we’re still alive.” 

Coulson sat down hard on one of the jumpseats and ran a hand over his face. 

“Damnit, Jemma,” he muttered. 

“What?” She asked curiously. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just, you two have the worse luck of any couple I have ever met.” 

She shot him a tight smile in return. 

“Well, from what you’ve just learned, you know that you haven’t had the best run yourself.” 

She lowered the retractable seat of the chair beside him and sat down. 

“It’s easier this way,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt like it used to. I can feel, but it’s all in my head. There’s no butterflies-in-the-stomach or pain in my chest like I used to get when he was gone before. It makes it bearable.” 

“But I can feel all that,” Coulson said. “Why? Why do I feel real?” 

“Better tech,” Simmons said. “You’re newer. We were able to include biofeedback capabilities that weren’t available when Fitz and I made our LMDs. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. I just… I thought you’d want to feel real.” 

He did feel real. That was the problem. It was a horrible fate, to feel like one thing when everyone else perceived him as something else. 

It was no wonder Simmons had kept so much from him. If he had known even a fraction of what he knew now, he never would have agreed to come back. 

“I’m not sorry,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. 

He truly hoped that his expression conveyed the full extent of his disapproval. 

“I’m not,” she repeated stubbornly. “I am sorry about all of the omissions, but I’m still glad you’re here.” 

When she reached over and took his hand in hers, it was warm to the touch. He felt sharp knuckles and the soft skin of her palm. It felt real, comforting. How much of him felt real to her? 

“You’re wrong about me,” Simmons told him. “It wasn’t commitment to the mission that gave me the push to do this to you. And I certainly didn’t do it to hurt May. I brought you here to help her.” 

“Jemma, I am the last person who needs to try and help her.” 

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “I saw it, Coulson. I saw that evil creature wearing your face as he ran a sword into her. I couldn’t let her go like that. She gave everything she had to try and reach some part of you inside that monster and she died for it. 

A long time ago, back when Mace was Director, you made me promise to watch out for her when you couldn’t. That’s what I’m doing. 

If you saw it, you’d understand. Even as she was bleeding out, she hoped that some part of you was still there. I couldn’t let her die knowing that the last thing that she thought was that you had betrayed her. I couldn’t.” 

The weight of the world settled on his shoulders now that he understood the task she had given him. That, at least, was a familiar feeling. It was so much heavier now that he knew what was at stake. 

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he said. “She might have believed in him, but she doesn’t believe in me. I can’t blame her for that. I’m not sure I do either. How can I help her if I don’t even know what I am?” 

“Do you love her?” Simmons asked, bluntly. 

Seconds ticked by in silence before he realized that the question was not rhetorical. 

He nodded just a fraction. 

Of course he loved her. That was the problem. 

“Then you’ll find a way,” she said. “You always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly wrote this to help myself sort through all of the emotional bombshells that were dropped in the last two episodes, so I know it's not my best.  

> 
> Thank you for reading!  

> 
> If you enjoyed it, great!  

> 
> If you didn't, that's okay. Hopefully, I'll do better after I've had some time to process all of this.


End file.
